Chapter Six

A frown marred Han’s forehead as he stood at the floor-to-ceiling surveillance mirror in his office and watched Jade pace from one end of the dance studio to the other. The mirror was concealed among a wall of mirrors in the dance studio where Jade paced.

He clasped his hands behind his back and tapped his foot a few times. He routinely observed new students without their knowledge before he worked with them. It helped determine what kind of music got them moving; then once they were moving, gauge how much dance experience and natural talent they had.

With Jade, the music was doing nothing for her, the look on her face telling him she’d rather be anywhere but there. Though when something came on she liked, she would tap her foot to the beat. Still, none of it was enough to make her forget why she was there. Even from his vantage point, he could sense her tension. He knew teaching her would be a challenge, which was why he grilled Lexi about her favorite music, in case he needed to play it.

A good fifteen minutes had elapsed since she arrived, and all he learned was how annoyed she was with the wait. Understandable. She was probably scared, freaked out about the situation, and desperate to get it over. He sighed. Time to play something he knew she’d like. Contemporary music. Who knew? He figured her to be more of a jazz or blues type. Although she did like some of the modern singing artists who had a vintage sound which didn’t surprise him.

He walked over to the stereo system, set it to play five of her favorite songs with a fast beat. He hoped like hell he wouldn’t have to wait through all five to see if she was inspired to move.

When he returned to his observation post, she was seated on a bench with her head back against the wall, eyes closed, her fingers playing with the locket around her neck. He frowned. Wearing a necklace during a dance lesson wasn’t a good idea.

Then the music he’d programmed began to play, and he had to pick his jaw up off the floor. Her tension drained away and was non-existent before the first song was half over and by the end Jade was tapping her foot to the beat and singing the lyrics. At least, he assumed she was singing since he couldn’t actually hear her. When the next song came on, she hopped off the bench and moved around to the music. Just what he hoped to see. What he hadn’t expected was the natural grace and complete lack of inhibition he saw in her movements. And how quickly watching her move heated his blood. Now that would be a problem.

He canceled the rest of the songs in the lineup and waited until the one playing finished before he left the office and headed to the studio. If he walked in while she was still dancing, his job would be even more of a challenge. He didn’t need anything else added to the mountain he had to climb with her.

****

What was taking Han so long? She wanted the lesson over; the wait drove her up a wall. It was a blessed relief when her favorite singing artist started to play over the speakers. Just the distraction she needed, and by the time the second song came on, she decided a few Zumba moves would relieve her tension. She loved dancing, and her exercise of choice was the Latin-based dance-exercise. Not that she needed the exercise to keep her figure—she’d never worried about that—but working at a desk made her feel the need to release some energy at the end of the day.

When the song was over and nothing started to play after it, she went back to the bench and sat down. Before the tension had a chance to build again, Han entered the room. She didn’t know which was harder, trying to avoid acting all googly-eyed at the way he looked, or the fact it was time to start the lesson.

No one had a right to look so good in a white V-neck t-shirt and gray sweatpants. Not much different than the gray yoga capris and the pink tank top she had on. Comfortable clothes that were easy to move in. But he looked so good in something so ordinary. Was it the bracelets he wore on his uninjured arm? Several colorful beaded ones made of round wooden and glass beads, as well as the same platinum, chunky chain he’d worn at dinner. They definitely added to the overall picture. And his bandaged wrist gave him just a touch of vulnerability, so she didn’t feel quite so intimidated by whom she was actually taking dance lessons from.

She sighed. It was just him. It didn’t matter what he wore; he rocked it. Well, the dark chest hair peeking out of the vee of his shirt might factor in there, too.

“Ready to get to work?”

“As I’ll ever be, I suppose.” She stood and wiped sweaty hands on her pants. “You need to know, I’ve never danced with anyone before. I have no clue what I’m doing.”

He bobbed his head. “I’m excited about the challenge. First thing, though, you need to take off the necklace. One or both of us can get hit in the face with it.”

She felt the color drain from her face.

The stress of what was to come made her touchstone invaluable. Could she do it?

Most of the time, over the last few years, she forgot it hung around her neck. It took more than a year after she finished therapy for her to stop depending on it when things got stressful. Since meeting Han last week, she started needing it regularly again. In the end, it came down to the lesser of two evils: admitting to this man why she needed to wear it—or going without it in a situation that could send her into a tailspin.

No. She was strong now. Nothing was going to send her over the edge. She was fine. She could do this. Han had proved she could trust him. His touch felt good. There was no reason to panic. She pulled the necklace over her head and dropped it in her hand. She closed her fingers around it and shut her eyes as she held it tight for several seconds before setting it down on the bench next to her car keys, water bottle, and cell phone. She turned to face Han, determined not to let him see how hard that one little step was.

“Good. All set?” At her nod, he continued, “Do you know the song Lexi has picked out for our dance?”

“Last time I talked to her, she hadn’t settled on one yet. I do know their song is one of Ed Sheeran’s, her favorite singer.”

“Yes. They’ll be doing a waltz. For us, it will be a foxtrot to one of Maroon 5’s songs.”

Relief washed through her. They weren’t doing a sexy Latin number. She clenched and unclenched her hands. She could do this. It would get her past her phobia once and for all. A test of sorts: being up close and personal to someone besides her sister, without having a panic attack. She already knew Han’s touch didn’t make her skin crawl. She’d been as close to him as she’d ever been to a man since…

Don’t think about him now.

She broke out in a nervous sweat. Was she going to freak out like she usually did when a man got too close? Or would she go to the other extreme and do something crazy like when she kissed him in the elevator? She wiped her hands on her hips and clasped them behind her back.

“This makes you happy?” he asked. “You like the foxtrot? You know something about it?”

She squared her shoulders. Time to come clean about her secret indulgence. “I’m going to tell you something, but it’s only because I’d do anything for my sister. It is the last thing I’d want to admit to you.”

His jaw clenched. “Gracias. I appreciate the compliment.”

She let out a frustrated sigh, unclasped her hands, and went to run her fingers through her hair. She dropped them when she remembered it was in a braid. “I’m a huge fan of your dance competition program and have watched it since day one. I know a lot about dancing; I’ve just never danced with another person before.”

Something that looked suspiciously like satisfaction flashed in his eyes, but his face remained impassive. “Are you telling me you’re a fan of mine?”

As much as she hated to admit it…She shrugged and turned away from him, put a foot up on the bench and pretended to tighten her shoe lace. “Just laying things out on the table.” She dropped her foot and turned back to him, her composure restored. “You need to get over yourself. I know a lot about different kinds of dance from watching your program for so long.” She threw back her shoulders, raised her arms to chest level, bent at the elbows with one palm facing down and the other hand raised. She tilted her head back and turned it to the side. “Ballroom dance frame.”

He nodded his head once. “Bueno. You have the idea, but it needs a little work.” He stepped closer, put his palms on her elbows and raised them higher. She managed to keep herself from jumping at his touch, but she couldn’t help the slight twitch. Which he noticed, of course.

He frowned. “I am hoping with practice you will get used to me touching you, and it will become commonplace. I’m warning you now, there is going to be a lot of touching.”

She gave him a look that said, I’m not an idiot, and he moved from standing in front of her to standing behind her. Her breath came out in a whoosh, and she jumped when his hands descended on her shoulders and pulled them back. She was grateful he ignored her reaction.

“You need to lean back from your partner slightly.” He placed one hand on her stomach, the other in the small of her back and straightened her stance. “Your frame needs to be locked.”

Please don’t let him feel how hard my heart is pounding.

And it wasn’t with fear. Well, maybe it was, but it was a different fear than she usually experienced. She was afraid of how good his hands felt and how much she wanted them stay right where they were. She was also afraid of disappointing him. Of not dancing to his standards. Of making him regret the gift he was giving Lexi and Beck.

“I hope doing that didn’t hurt your wrist. Is it healing all right?”

“It’s much better than last time I saw you, and I’m an expert at working with injuries, so don’t give it another thought.” He stepped back from her and swept a hand in the direction of the mirrored wall. “Take a long look at how you need to hold yourself for this dance. Memorize the look and feel.” He paused for several long moments. “Sí. You can relax.” He stepped behind her, put his hands on her hips and propelled her forward. “Let’s move to the middle of the floor and I will show you the first basic steps.” Once there, he let go of her and moved away. “Back in frame.”

His bossy tone grated, but she did as he said. And she did it perfectly. Though what she really wanted was to stand there and admire the way he looked in the mirror.

“Technically, my moves are the opposite of yours. For now, I will do your moves standing next to you and you copy me. Sí?”

“Do you want me to watch you or the mirror?”

“Mirror. We are going to start with the right foot, taking two steps back on your toes and dragging the heel of your left foot as you bring it back next to your other foot. Like this.”

He demonstrated the move smoothly and effortlessly. It felt awkward when she did it, but it didn’t look as bad as it felt when she watched herself in the mirror.

He nodded. “Not bad for your first try. Now, a sidestep to the right. Do it with me and watch in the mirror. Then we’ll go up to the mirror and practice it several times across the room. The rhythm is slow, slow, quick, quick.”

The steps were easy enough to get the hang of. Keeping the frame was the more difficult task, made more stressful when he grabbed her from behind like he had the first time, putting one hand on her stomach and one on her back to push her into position. They repeated the steps over and over across the length of the room until they had nowhere to go.

“Go back to the mirror and I will watch this time,” he instructed. “You need to do it until it comes naturally and you don’t think about it.”

After what felt like forever, he called a halt. The muscles in her arms and abdomen burned. All she wanted was to sit and take a long swig of water. And the next time he barked the word frame at her, she might just haul off and punch him in the nose.

After she quenched her thirst, he announced, “Now we do it together.”

Her stomach sank. This was the part she’d worried about most. Being held. By someone stronger and bigger than her. Penned in by a muscular body on one side and strong arms on the other. Just thinking about it had her on the verge of hyperventilating. She raised her hand to her neck. Damn. She closed her eyes for a moment. She’d been trapped between him and the wall of the elevator and liked it. This was no different than then. This was Han and she liked him and his proximity.

Relax and enjoy the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity of dancing with The Alejandro Rivera.

“Are you okay? Did I push you too hard? It’s a bit of a learning curve for me in the first couple of lessons too, figuring out what my student is capable of. What they can handle. How much is too much.”

She nodded, appreciating the concern in his voice and expression. Just suck it up and do it, Jade. This isn’t your stepfather. In an effort to block out memories which hadn’t plagued her in years and the feelings that had resurfaced, she stood. “Let’s do it.”

When he took her hand in his, she clenched her jaw, but when the bandaged one rested on her back she twitched. No way he hadn’t felt that. Damn it. She looked in the mirror. It was a reflection of her with Alejandro Rivera. Not her stepfather. Her heart rate slowed, and her jaw muscles relaxed, but she couldn’t completely release her tension.

“You need to figure out how to relax. You are wound up far too tight to do this anywhere close to right. I am not trying to be sexual. I’m teaching you how to dance the foxtrot. Now, ballroom frame.”

She let out a little laugh, which released some tension. “I swear to God, you say frame one more time, and you will regret it.”

She felt the chuckle rumble in his chest. The pressure of his hand on her back increased significantly, and he countered the pressure of his hand with his hips this time instead of his other hand, so that her frame locked into position. He let go of her hand, took hold of her chin and turned her head to one side. “Frame.”

She stomped on his foot. Not hard, as a joke more than anything, but she had warned him. He let out a few Spanish expletives under his breath. Oops.

“Do that again and you will be the one regretting things. You will be stepping on my toes unintentionally more times than you or I can keep track of. I don’t need you doing it on purpose. Now, right foot back. Ready? Go. Slow, slow, quick, quick. Again.”

This was so much worse—and so much better—than she feared. With every step back, his leg came between hers, his hand lightly pressed into her back and his voice rumbled through her chest. One minute she was reveling in the feel of him, the next she was having an ugly flashback. And the whole time she had to remember she was dancing, that her feet needed to follow the steps. She tried desperately to hang onto her composure, to concentrate on what her body was supposed to be doing, but by the time they made it across the room she couldn’t control her shaking. She broke out of his hold and walked rapidly to the bench and sat down, wishing there was a hole she could crawl into. She was such a freak. He was merely dancing with her. She bowed her head and put her hands over her face. Pull yourself together, Jade. She dropped her hands and picked up the necklace, tracing the locket’s design with her thumb, her eyes on Han. He was leaning against the wall, legs crossed at the ankles, arms crossed over his chest.

“Would you believe me if I said I just need to rest for a minute?”

“No. But I will if you want me to.”

He let out a resigned sigh, pushed away from the wall and walked over to sit next to her, careful to leave a good amount of space between them. His eyes flicked to her hands before resting on her face.

“Maybe you should tell your sister you can’t do this. There’s no rule that says without a wedding party dance the bride and groom aren’t married.”

Her eyes filled with tears and her nose tickled as she attempted a smile. She sniffed and blinked several times to get rid of it. “I can’t, Han. I can’t.”

“She’ll understand. Does she have any idea what this is doing to you?”

“She has no idea how hard it is.” She looked at the locket. “I can’t do it to her.”

“Why? Just because she’s your sister doesn’t mean you have to give her whatever she wants.”

“Oh, I know that. I had the joy of raising her through her teen years. She’s heard ‘no’ from me more times than you can count.”

“So, what’s one more then?”

“It’s her wedding, Han. And she’s marrying a wonderful man. I want it to be perfect, probably more than she does. She deserves it. And it’s already not perfect because she doesn’t have a father to walk her down the aisle. Which in a way is my fault. So I owe her this.”

“And now we get to the crux of the matter. How is her having no father your fault?”

Her hand clenched tightly around the locket and she ground her teeth together to keep herself from opening the locket and looking at the picture of Lexi. Her ears started ringing, and she squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, fighting the urge to run. She needed to act normal. As though his question wasn’t a big deal. “What does any of it have to do with my learning how to dance?”

He looked at her in silence for a heartbeat. “You’re going to have to take my word for it when I say it has everything to do with it, and if you seriously want to do this for your sister’s wedding, you’re going to have to let me know exactly what is going on. So I can do what I can to help.”

She jumped up and walked to the door. So much for acting like it wasn’t a big deal. No way she was talking to him about this. She hadn’t talked to anyone other than her therapist about it. Lexi knew some of it because she had been with her when it was going on and seen things, but she’d never talked to her. About any of it. At the sound of his voice, her hand on the door knob, she froze, her back to him.

“My mother was a prostitute. She was beat to death by her pimp when I was five and my brother was ten.” He stated it like he was reciting a math equation. “So my brother and I ended up living on the streets of San Juan, performing for the tourists on the cruise ships that docked there. I would dance, and my brother would play the harmonica, hoping they would give us some money for our efforts.”

Her shoulders slumped as she turned to face him. “Oh my God. I don’t even know what to say to that.” She slowly walked back and sat next to him.

“No one knows this. My bio for public consumption is mostly fiction. So I’m taking a great risk telling you this. I’m doing it because it’s vital for you to trust me.”

Her breath caught in her throat; her heart pounded like a base drum for a couple beats. That was huge. Letting the cat out of the bag and having the public know he was claustrophobic made him a quirky celebrity. Letting them know about his childhood would be a major humiliation for him. And he told her anyway. She rested her elbows on her knees, locket clutched tightly in one hand, and stared at her feet.

“I won’t tell anyone, Han,” she said softly. “And I’ll tell you mine. If you really think it will help. If I even can.” She looked up over her shoulder at him. “How much time is left?”

“I have nothing scheduled after you. We have as much time as it takes.” The corner of his mouth quirked up. “I had a feeling this would be complicated.”

She continued to stare at her feet as though they could give her the strength she needed, then opened her fist and looked at the locket, ran her thumb over its surface. Her heart started thundering in her chest. He wasn’t the first stranger she’d told. Just the first man. She looked at the locket, imagining the picture that rested inside. Lexi. She refused to let her stepfather have any more power over her, and she certainly wasn’t going to let him ruin Lexi’s wedding day.

“My mother died when I was seventeen. In a car accident. My stepfather inherited the responsibility of caring for us by default, since our biological father was in prison. When my mom was alive, it wasn’t a big deal. He was an okay stepdad. He was desperately in love with her but rather ambivalent toward us. For him, it was all about my mother; Lexi and I happened to be part of the deal. And he gave my mom a good life. They were happy. So I am grateful for that.” She stopped and squeezed her eyes shut.

“So what happened, chica?” he asked softly, and that delicious Spanish accent released some of her tension.

Now for the hard part. “Nothing out of the ordinary to begin with. He started drinking to cope. A little bit at first but it escalated. He never drank at work, but it got to the point where he was trashed the rest of the time.”

She found herself drifting into the memory and forgetting Han was there as she talked. That it felt good to tell him came as a surprise. Even more surprising, she was telling this to Alejandro Rivera.

“I came home later than usual from work one night. Normally I worked a few hours after school and was home in time to make dinner, but it was tax season, a few days before the deadline, so I got home long after Lexi was in bed. My stepfather was drunk as usual and followed me into the kitchen when I went to get something for dinner.”

She went to run a hand through her hair and was frustrated by the French braid again. Irritated, she yanked the band off the end and ran a hand through her hair to loosen it. Then she continued with the hardest part of the story. “He—ah—came up behind me, called me by my mother’s name, and pulled me back against him. It caught me by surprise, so I didn’t pull away. Then he ran his hands all over the front of me. And I mean all over.” She paused and bit her lip, suppressing a shiver of revulsion. “I caught him by surprise and escaped his hold. That was when he saw I wasn’t my mother. He apologized profusely and went to his room.” She sucked in a deep breath, only then realizing she needed it.

When the silence dragged on, Han said, “There’s more.”

She nodded. “About a week later he did the same thing, only this time, he knew exactly who I was. For weeks we did a grab and dodge routine, and it felt like he was putting his hands on me all the time. He probably wasn’t, but it got magnified in my head and wore me out.”

With a shudder, she jumped to her feet and walked forward a few paces, arms wrapped around her middle. She took a couple deep breaths, started to speak, then stopped. Only by keeping her back to Han was she finally able to blurt it out. “One night, he climbed into my bed.”

She ground her teeth together. Han was right. She needed to say this. She had this weird sense he wanted to protect her and make it better. And she longed for that, even though it was stupid to think it, much less want it. She needed to be able to dance at her sister’s wedding, but more importantly, she needed to get over this phobia completely, to stop letting her stepfather dictate her life. And maybe, just maybe, getting it out there, verbalizing it, would help her finish the last bit of her healing.

“He pulled me to him so my back was against his chest and his hands went under my shirt…” She shuddered and after taking a moment to compose herself, she continued, “He held me so tight, I couldn’t get away, and I could feel every inch of him along the back of me. He was—he was…” Her voice lost its strength and she cleared her throat.

“Happy to see you?” Han supplied.

She nodded. “I hated it. The way it felt, what it meant. And his hands where touching me everywhere. I swear, the guy was an octopus or something.” She shuddered again.

She heard Han jump to his feet, and she turned to see him pace across the room and back. A sleek jungle panther on the prowl for prey. Her eyes couldn’t look anywhere else when he did it again. Then he stopped a few feet away, hands fisted at his sides, body rigid. Through clenched teeth he asked, “Did he rape you?”

Suddenly her eyes were filled with tears; they dripped down her cheeks. Where the hell had they come from? Her throat felt so tight she couldn’t speak so she shook her head.

The tension drained from him as he muttered, “Gracias a Dios.” He blew out a breath. “What stopped him?”

“He was drunk,” she whispered; she didn’t have the strength to speak any louder. Swiping the back of her hands across her cheeks, she went to the bench and collapsed on it. She cleared her throat. “He passed out. After that night, I slept with Lexi in her room. I was so scared he’d try something with her, never mind me, again. I found him passed out in my bed a few times after that, and he still used every opportunity to touch me. After I graduated a few months later, I moved out and took Lexi with me. We haven’t seen him since. Lexi has been the only one whose touch doesn’t make my skin crawl.”

He sat down next to her and after a lengthy silence took her hand in his. “This makes your skin crawl?”

She looked at their joined hands. Dare she tell him? She was deathly afraid of the power it would give him. A tremor ran through her at the thought, and he dropped her hand.

“It does.”

For Lexi, remember? “No, Han. I’ve seen a therapist for this, so I’m at peace with things now.” She held up her locket. “I use this to ground me, remind me I’m in the present, not with him anymore. That he has no power to hurt me. But now…I have no problem with your touching me and that scares me.”

He put a finger under her chin and gently turned her face toward him. “I’m glad. It means the rest will come. You have natural talent and if you can get past your phobia, you will rock this thing and give your sister an awesome wedding gift.” He kissed her lips softly and quickly, then removed his finger to lean back against the wall. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“The way you make me feel scares me to death, too.”

She stifled a groan. She didn’t need to know that. It was too much right now. Her heart pounded hard in her chest for several beats, and she took a calming breath. She decided to ignore the comment.

“So now what?”

“So, now I know what I’m dealing with, maybe we can make some progress. Let’s try dancing together again.” He reached over and touched the chain of the locket that dangled outside of her fist. “You can wear this. Any damage it may do, I’m sure we’ll survive. I think it will help more than it may hurt.” He stood and held his hand out to her.

She put the necklace on, then took his hand as her heart started its pounding rhythm again and stood as well.

He didn’t let go of her hand as pulled her to the center of the room. Without coming any closer, he put his other hand on her hip, leaving a good distance between them so that the only place he was touching her was her hand and hip. Just as she was about to relax in relief, he ordered, “Put your hand on my shoulder and get in frame.”

She did as he said and something of what she was thinking must have shown on her face.

“You better not try anything. You want me to stop saying ‘frame’, then you need to do it without a reminder. Now, we can dance without touching more than we are now until you are ready to get closer, but you need to know that you will have to get ready. You want to do this, then you need to wrap your head around that. Now, we dance. Slow, slow, quick, quick.”

****

He didn’t want to think about his mother. He didn’t want to think about what that bastard did to Jade. And what did he do to keep from thinking? He danced. So he’d barked orders and moved Jade around the dance floor for a good hour before she complained.

“That’s it, you sadist. I’ve had enough. Push me for as long as you want, but that’s as good as it’s going to get today. I’m done.”

She pulled away from him, grabbed a towel from the shelf by the door and sat on the bench as she wiped the sweat from her face, neck and arms. Once done, she set the towel on the bench, grabbed her water bottle and took a long swig. “Now I know why they call you the Devil of the Dance Floor. Hot, sexy and oh so evil.”

He grinned. And told himself he did not want to be the one drying off her sweaty body. Teaching her to dance was enough of a complication. Breaking down her barriers to the point she’d have sex with him? Not worth it. He knew plenty of women willing to take care of that particular itch who weren’t anywhere near the amount of work.

“Shall we pick up some takeout and go to my house? We can eat on my patio, listen to the surf, enjoy the sunset, swim if you’d like and pamper our sore muscles in my hot tub.”

She looked at him like he’d lost his mind; he suppressed a grin. “Don’t worry, I’m not trying to seduce you. It’s all part of my plan. Teaching you to dance perfectly is going to take more than just learning some steps in a dance studio. I need you relaxed around me. I don’t want to have to start from scratch again at our next lesson. So, more time together after the progress we’ve made is a good idea.”

“Slave driver.”

The words might’ve been harsh if they hadn’t been accompanied by the slight upward tilt of her mouth and a sparkle in her eyes.

He nodded his head once and suppressed a smile. He was the one in charge here. “Gracias. You’re learning, chica.” He took her towel, as well as the one he’d used to wipe himself down with, and threw them in a bin, then grabbed her hands and pulled her to her feet. “We’ve got showers here, so let’s get cleaned up, and I’ll meet you out in the parking lot.”

She relaxed into him when he wrapped an arm around her waist. She didn’t flinch or pull away, and he smiled at the progress. He clenched his jaw for a moment then forced himself to relax. He was not happy about that for any other reason than he was her teacher, and he’d made a breakthrough. When they reached the door, he opened it for her and kept his hand in the small of her back as he followed her through it. After he closed the door behind them, he returned his hand to her waist and pulled her next to him. He felt her tremble. It crossed his mind it was because he hadn’t broken through her barriers after all, before he sensed it was something altogether different. Something he was feeling too.

He looked down at her and thoroughly enjoyed the view. The creamy skin of her long neck made him suppress the urge to taste it. The curves displayed by the scooped neckline of her top captured his gaze for several moments before he stopped in his tracks. His fingers tightened on her waist and they stopped. She looked up at him questioningly. He reached out with his bandaged hand and tucked her bra strap back underneath her tank top.

“Is red secretly your favorite color?”

What he saw in her eyes at his touch stilled him momentarily, his finger pressed against her skin under the strap. Slowly, caressingly, he removed it and ran his finger up her neck, along her jaw, to stop at the corner of her mouth. His heart thundered in his chest making his body throb as the blood pulsed through it. Hers was the loveliest mouth he’d ever seen and to curb the impulse to devour that mouth, he lightly ran his finger across her bottom lip. When he traced it back across, her tongue came out, and he wondered if was to rid her mouth of the feel of his finger or get a taste of him.

Then his brain turned off and other parts of him had his head bending down and his tongue coming out to touch hers. He pulled his head back at the last second, before he made contact. As he hustled her down the hallway he didn’t know which was worse, how quickly she turned him on, or the foreign feelings that coursed through him. Feelings that weren’t related to sexual pleasure and more about how she was feeling, what she needed. So much more personal than the pleasure of the moment. He squirmed in his skin.

“Yes.”

He halted abruptly and when his fingers dug into her waist, he felt her stiffen. “Yes, what?”

“Red is my favorite color.”

He bent his head down and whispered in her ear, “Mine, too. How long is it going to take you to get clean?”

He felt a shiver snake through her. The reaction he hoped for. He shouldn’t be so pleased with the fact it took a moment for her to answer, but he liked knowing he did that to her. He also liked how she stood up to him and gave as good as she got when the occasion called for it. He caught his breath. He liked that she treated him like a regular guy and not a celebrity. He wanted to squirm in his skin again with that thought because he enjoyed women treating him like royalty. Was it because it filled a need his mother hadn’t? Not the time or the place for psychoanalysis, Rivera.

“Fifteen minutes tops.”

He nodded. “Here we are. This is the women’s. I’ll see you in a few.”

When she threw an arm around his neck, threaded her fingers through his hair and pulled his head towards her, he momentarily stiffened with shock before he gave in to her demand. She captured his mouth in a kiss that left him reeling and disappeared behind the door of the women’s locker room before he had a chance to respond.

He collapsed against the wall next to the door of the men’s locker room. That was twice now she’d kissed him. He was in serious trouble. He wanted her so much it hurt. He couldn’t recall ever wanting a woman that badly. Much less after only a kiss. He clenched his fists, then bit back a groan when it painfully reminded him of his injury. Giving in to the desire to bash his fist into something, he slammed it against the door to the men’s locker room as he pushed it open. Hard enough it banged against the wall. Damn it! He’d never needed a cold shower after a dance lesson before. And all it took was a quick, chaste kiss.

As he exited the building twenty minutes later, she surprised him again. Not only was she ready before him, she was leaning against a small red convertible. And she looked hot.

“That’s your car?”

She gave him a mischievous grin. “Indeed. You don’t like it?”

He shook his head. “You never cease to surprise me. I figured on the red, since you said it was your favorite color, but was thinking more along the lines of something practical, like a Japanese hybrid.” His expression must have given away his shock because she laughed. So he shrugged a shoulder to appear careless.

“Of course. A boring, accountant-type car. Actually, I have a silver one of those I use for work. Gives the right impression to my clients. Not that I drive to my clients very often, but it looks good sitting in front of the office.”

“That fits. An environmentally conscientious accountant.” He jangled his keys on the end of his finger. “You want to follow me to the house, and we’ll have some food delivered there?”

She shrugged a shoulder. “Up to you, boss.”

Whether it was to remind herself or him this was just business, it did a good job putting his head back where it belonged. She’d probably kissed him in an attempt to get past her issues, nothing more. He wanted to bang his head on a wall to make that sink in. He didn’t need anything else from her. Did not. There were plenty of other fish in the sea, and he was pretty sure after tonight he was going to need to call one of his many fish. For a reality check. To get his perspective back.